Sick Day
by jessica.m.chittester
Summary: Agent Brody is sick. LaSalle takes care of her. (Small snippet of Pride). Homemade chicken soup, hot tea, and a romance movie. Cuddling on the couch included. I wanted to make it sweet. (Fluff I think it's called). This is my first FanFic ever, so please help me out and review it.
1. Chapter 1

NCIS Agent Chris LaSalle was startled out of his early morning daydream by the sound of a loud sneeze. For a second he had thought that maybe it was a gunshot. The Alabama native jumped so badly that he almost dumped all of his hot coffee onto his lap; that would not have been a pleasant start to his day. His blue gaze scanned the office to see where the offensive noise had come from.

It was none other his partner Merri Brody, looking like death itself. She was late crawling into work, something she'd never done before. LaSalle was surprised to see her. The past few days she'd been a bit off, feeling under the weather as she put it; it started after she tackled that suspect and wound up falling into the man's artificial pond with him. Pride had told her not to come in today when they were getting ready to lock up last night.

Brody's normally well kempt, button up exterior was disheveled. She wasn't wearing a pants suit that LaSalle had grown accustom too. Instead, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a sweater of all things. Her short hair, which she always kept neatly brushed, was in a terrible state. Her large brown eyes were bloodshot and puffy. And her nose was a bright red while her cheeks were pale.

_Hell hath frozen over_, thought LaSalle.

"Thought Pride told you to stay home today?" LaSalle drawled, standing up and eyeing his partner with concern.

"I'm fine," her normally bubbling tone was congested and nasally. "Just got a little cold."

"Just a little cold, huh?" He gave her a 'you've got to try better than that' type of look, "Looks to me like this cold of yours is kicking your ass."

She shot him her signature death glare, the one she used while interrogating suspects. Brody sat down at her desk and rubbed her hands over her face. She sneezed loudly into her elbow and swore under her breath. Brody was quick to snag up a tissue.

"I thought I told you to take the day off, Brody?" Snapped Pride, who'd been pouring himself a cup of coffee in the office kitchen, "What the hell are you doing here? You should be home, resting."

"I'm fine." Brody failed to suppress her cough; she reached out to boot up her computer.

"The hell you are." LaSalle said, standing behind her now.

He'd moved without her realizing. She looked up at him and he flashed her one of his charming smiles. Brody secretly loved those smiles. Her partner reached around her and turned her computer back off.

"Pride said to stay home." He chided her, "Should've listened to him."

His nostrils were assaulted with the smell of Vick's Vapor Rub and liquid Dayquil. Normally his partner smelled like lemons, strawberries, and fresh flowers. Lemon is her favorite type of soap, strawberries her shampoo, and fresh flowers her perfume.

"I'm fine." She lied again. "I've worked with worse."

Pride and LaSalle exchanged looks. Pride gave the Alabama native a nod. LaSalle took ahold of Brody's elbow and gently hauled her to her feet. He grabbed her purse with his free hand and started to lead her towards the door.

"What are you doing?" She asked, confusion in her gaze.

"Call it an intervention," Pride told her, "Take her home and keep her there, LaSalle. Make sure our Agent Brody is back to fighting condition before she sets foot back into this building."

It was a direct order.

"Will do, Pride." LaSalle said with a nod.

He led her out the doors and headed straight for his truck. Brody struggled in his grip a bit.

"I am capable of driving myself, LaSalle."

"I know that," he said, opening up the passenger door and helped her into the seat, "But what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you drive home by yourself?"

Before she had time to answer, LaSalle handed her, her purse and closed the door with one of his charming smile upon his lips. He climbed into the driver seat and fired up his truck. Instead of heading in the direction towards her apartment, LaSalle turned towards the French Quarter, heading for his apartment.

"Why are we heading to your place?" Brody asked, before she had to pull a tissue out of her pocket and stifled a sneeze with it.

"I don't feel like raiding your fridge for anything. Besides, I've got all the fixings at my place to cook you up a homemade chicken noddle soup."

Brody sighed and gave a small pout, "Seriously, LaSalle, you don't have to do this. I can take care of myself."

"Of course you can, Brody. I'm just lending an extra hand." The tone in his voice told her not to press the subject.

Knowing all the shortcuts, it didn't take LaSalle very long to drive to his house. Before Brody knew it, he was parked and getting out of his truck. He opened her door and gave her his hand, helping her. His warm, callused hand felt nice in hers.

Brody let herself be led into his apartment. It was small and homey with all the telltale traces of him being a perpetual bachelor. LaSalle moved some things, mostly semi-clean clothing, half finish Lego sculptures, and newspapers from off of his couch.

"Make yourself at home, Brody." He said, "If you'd like I can draw you a hot bath…it might help take some of the aches away? I'll also make you some hot tea with honey."

She shot him a look, studying his face. Brody was trying to decide if he was pulling her leg. For once, LaSalle wasn't joking. He was being completely serious with her. After a brief moment, she gave him a nod.

"I'd like that."

LaSalle smiled and wondered off into his bathroom, whistling an unfamiliar jazz tune as he began to fill his tub up with hot water and bubble bath solution. _This will give me time to start cooking that chicken soup I promised_, he thought to himself. As the tub was filling up, LaSalle raided his bedroom for a change of clothes for Brody. He didn't think she'd be very comfortable in the jeans she was wearing. All he found was a pair of old sweat pants and a baggy, faded t-shirt that read University of Alabama. He also grabbed an old quilt from his closet.

He handed the clothes to Brody and shooed her off into the bathroom, giving her a brief description of how to turn the water off. Shutting the door behind her, LaSalle chucked the quilt on the couch, _Just in case she gets cold and needs it._

Then LaSalle went to work in the kitchen. He pulled out a small boneless chicken breast from the freeze, thawed it out in the microwave, and diced it into small pieces. He threw this in a pot of water with shredded carrots, celery, chicken stock, some spices, and set the pot to boil.

He then broke out his grandmother's old tea kettle and set about brewing up some hot tea for his partner. While that was going, LaSalle placed a pile of flour on his kitchen counter, threw some parsley in with it, and cracked three eggs into it. He kneaded this into a firm dough and then rolled it out and cut it into manageable strips which he then slowly added to the boiling broth.

Brody took her sweet time with the bath, soaking it for all its worth. She waited until the water was starting to turn chilly by the time she decided that she needed to get out. Brody emptied the tub, dried herself off, and proceeded to slip into the clothes that LaSalle had lent her. They were a bit baggy and out of habit she sniffed them. They smelled clean enough.

When she opened the door to the bathroom, her momentarily clear nostrils picked up the scent of mouthwatering chicken soup. She padded barefooted over to the kitchen doorframe and leaned against it, watching LaSalle work. Brody couldn't help but smile.

"If you want, Brody," he said, not turning around but knowing she was there, "You can look through my DVD collection and pick out a movie to watch. How was the bath by the way?"

"The bath was great. Thank you, LaSalle. I didn't realize how badly I needed it."

"Don't think nothing of it." He drawled with a smile and handed her a mug of steaming, hot tea. He silently approved of the clothes he'd given her, thinking they made her look cute as a bug. "Now, go find yourself a movie to watch. The soup is just 'bout done. I'll bring it to you when it's ready."

"Will you watch the movie with me?" She asked lightly, treading uncertain water.

"Of course I will." He responded instantly.

LaSalle watched as one of her beautiful smiles graced her face. Brody set the tea down on the coffee table and knelt down in front of his leaning tower of DVDs. The bath had brought color back into her cheeks and her attractive brown eyes were no longer bloodshot or puffy.

He went back to the soup and did a final taste test, _Hot damn, that's perfect!_

"Oh!" Brody's excited cry reached LaSalle's ears as he was preparing her a bowl, "You've got 'Pride and Prejudice'! It's the 2005 version with Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfadyen – my favorite."

"I do?" He asked, surprised and then added, "Oh yeah! Pride's daughter lent it to me months ago. She said it was really good. I never got around to watching it."

"You're watching it now, Agent LaSalle." Brody said with a broad smile, "It's wonderful. I just love Mr. Darcy!"

"Well, here." LaSalle handed her the bowl of soup, "You eat this and I'll set it up for us to watch. How 'bout that?"

Brody agreed eagerly and took a seat down on his couch. She was surprised to find it comfortable. That got her mind wondering how often her partner wound up sleeping on it. The image of LaSalle being shirtless and sprawled out asleep upon this couch entered her brain and, shocked with herself, Brody quickly banished it. She blamed it on being sick.

Being ever the gentleman, LaSalle sat down next to Brody, but he was kind enough to not invade her personal space. The movie began to play and LaSalle asked for a quick run through.

"That'll spoil it." Brody protested with a soft groan.

"I just want to be prepared," LaSalle said with a shrug, "In case it's boring or something."

His partner picked up one of his couch pillows and whacked him with it, "Just hush up and watch, LaSalle. You'll like it. I promise." Then, she tasted the soup, and made an approving noise in her throat.

"You truly are an odd bird, Brody. You're sicker than a dog and still got a bit of fight in you."

He was rewarded with one of her laughs. He enjoyed her laughs; they warmed a man right to the backbone and made even the most miserable of days seem just that much brighter. As Brody had promised, LaSalle did find himself enjoying the movie.

Of course he couldn't be 100% silent throughout it; that was practically impossible for him. He asked questions and Brody, feigning annoyance, was more than happy to answer them. At the halfway point, she mentioned that she was feeling chilled. LaSalle reached up behind her, arm draping over her shoulders, and pulled the quilt into view.

Brody thanked him and wrapped it around herself like a cloak. Then, to his upmost amazement, Brody curled herself next to him. She laid her head upon his shoulder and snuggled as closely as she could to his warmth. A small yawn escaped her lips.

LaSalle timidly let his arm ensnare her and when she didn't protest, he held her gently, hand on top of one of hers. At some point, near a sappy point (as LaSalle put it) Brody weaved her fingers into his and held his hand. She didn't speak and he didn't point it out. It was a nice moment, having his partner curled against him.

At the end, Brody was completely asleep. Her breathing had grown soft and even. And she didn't hear the LaSalle turn down the volume, as to not disturb her.

"I wish I had a Mr. Darcy," she said quietly in her sleep.

LaSalle smiled down at her and felt his heart tighten as he watched her sleep, "Merri?"

"Hmm."

"You've got a Mr. Darcy."

She shifted a little in her sleep, making a soft sound. LaSalle brushed a stray lock of hair from her face and dipped his head. His lips brushed her cheek and he gave her hand a tender squeeze.

"I'm you're Mr. Darcy, Merri. You just don't know it yet."

The End


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, folks. I know some of you asked for a second chapter. Well, here you go! I don't think its as good as my first but I figured I just give it a shot. Sorry if you find it terrible. I'm still getting used to this FanFic things. Enjoy!**

NCIS Agent Merri Brody felt safe, warm, and comfortable. She was surrounded by the delicious, spicy, musky scent of her partner, Agent Chris LaSalle. She stirred in her sleep and stretched out her hands, searching for him. When she felt nothing but empty bed sheets and not her partner or the couch she'd fallen asleep on Brody snapped wide awake.

Warm sunlight was streaming through the curtain-less windows, painting the bedroom a cheerful yellow. Brody lifted her head and looked around, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She couldn't recall how she got into LaSalle's bed. Now that she was awake, Brody realized that the bed wasn't anywhere near as comfortable as the couch had been.

_LaSalle must've brought me here after I passed out last night_, she thought.

Her drowsy brain easily accepted this as the truth and this wiped away any and all worry and confusion. Brody stretched leisurely and ran her fingers through her sleep rumpled hair. She peeked out one of the windows and felt a smile grace her face. The New Orleans' skyline was a smooth baby blue. There wasn't a single trace of clouds or foul weather.

"Ah, you're up!" LaSalle's cheerful drawl reached her ears and she turned her head to look at him. "Nice to see that you've finally decided to join the land of the living, Brody."

He was standing in the doorframe in a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, looking as handsome as ever. His blue eyes were sparkling with their normal merriment and mischief and in his hands he held a dinner tray. It was loaded with all the fixings.

Brody's eyes widened and her jaw dropped a little. She saw that there was a steaming cup of coffee, a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice, a towering stack of hot waffles, a bowl of fresh strawberries dolloped with whip cream, a small container of butter, a bottle of syrup, and a tiny vase with a single daisy.

"What's all this?" She asked, not trying to hide her astonishment.

LaSalle grinned widely, placing the tray over her lap, "If you must know, Brody, it's not often that I've got guests over. I figured I'd treat you to breakfast in bed."

The smell wafting up from the coffee and waffles made her mouth water, "You didn't have to, LaSalle. You're spoiling me."

"Then consider yourself spoiled, Brody. You deserve it." He sat down at the foot of the bed and eyed her up, concern now etching his blue gaze, "How are you feeling by the way?"

She swallowed the big bite of waffle she'd taken before she answered, "I'm feeling much better. A day of rest was just what the doctor ordered."

He gave a shy smile, "I hope your nurse did well enough?"

"He did great." She returned his smile.

LaSalle nodded and proceeded to fill her in on what she missed while she was asleep, "Pride called a little while ago; asked how you were doing. I told him that you could probably do with another day of just relaxing before you're completely up to par."

He stepped out of the room for a brief moment and came back with a colorful beach bag. He sat back down on the bed again and placed the bag next to Brody.

At the confusion in those brown eyes of hers LaSalle said, "Gift from Loretta. She swung by and dropped off some of clean clothes for you and asked me to wish you well."

Brody took a swig of the orange juice, "That was thoughtful of her. Did you tell her thanks for me?"

"Of course." He said. He looked at her plate with approval, "It's good to see that your appetite is back."

She playfully kicked out one of her feet, catching him in the thigh. LaSalle caught her bare foot, running a finger from heel to toes and back down again. Brody squealed like a little girl and fell into a fit of giggles.

"My, my, my," LaSalle teased, Alabama drawl bright and playful, "Don't tell me that Agent Brody is ticklish now."

He repeated the treatment on her foot and poor Brody, being pinned beneath the food tray, couldn't fight back. She was lost in a fit of giggles. He joined in with his partner's laughter, enjoying himself more then he'd be willing to admit.

"LaSalle," Brody said between laughing fits, "Oh…you…bully! That's not fair!"

LaSalle only messed with her a few seconds more before he released her. He patted the back of Brody's calf. The Alabama native reached up and took the empty tray from his partner.

"Up and at 'em, Brody. I've got the whole day planned out."

"Whole day?" She asked, "Don't you got to go into work?"

"Nah." He said with a shrug and an award winning smile filled with mischief, "Pride gave me the day off. Said to keep an eye out on you. You know, to make sure you're alright."

"Why do I have a feeling that you told Pride I'm sicker then what I am?"

LaSalle graced her with a wink as he stood up again, "It'll be our little secret."

Then he was gone, leaving her to change. Brody chuckled, feeling herself grow excited. She hasn't played hooky since high school and her early college days. She never knew that LaSalle had that small streak of rebellion within him.

Brody opened the beach bag and rolled her eyes to the heavens, a small smile tugging at her lips. Loretta had managed to find one of her few dresses. It was a spaghetti strapped yellow sundress with the bottom of the skirt embroidered with daisies. The waist of the dress was wrapped, giving the wearer an hourglass shape.

Loretta had also found her most comfortable walking sandals that buckled at her ankles. They were made out of soft leather and were dyed a creamy tan with a tiny gold buckle. Loretta had also stowed away a stick of deodorant and Brody's favorite perfume.

She used these gratefully and then Brody flattened out the wrinkles in her dress and looked around for a mirror. Seeing none, she settled on using a window. She finger combed her hair, smoothing it into place.

_If I didn't know any better, I'd say Loretta is playing match maker_, Brody thought as she studied herself in the window.

She walking into the living and LaSalle stood a moment in silence, too stunned for words. She realized that he had the daisy from breakfast in one of his hands. Before Brody had time to register what was happening, he had tucked it behind one of her ears.

"Don't you look as pretty as a picture," LaSalle drawled, eyeing her approvingly, "You don't look to shabby in a dress. If it's not too bold for me to say?"

His impeccable southern charm made her all gooey on the inside.

"You don't look so bad yourself." Was her reply, hiding the fact of how easily affected she was by his words.

_What changed between us yesterday?_ She asked herself mentally.

With a smirk, LaSalle snagged up his house keys and held his apartment door open for her, "Come on then, Brody. Let's go paint this town."

With a skip in her step, she let LaSalle usher her out of his front door. It was a warm, sunny day in New Orleans and so the duo decided to ditch the truck and just walk. The French Quarter in which LaSalle lived was bustling about like a beehive. There was both a craft show and a farmer's market going on. Vendors were busy calling out bargains for their goods and the farmers were haggling with customers like seasoned pros.

Whatever stall Brody wanted to inspect, her partner let her. They sampled fresh fruits and veggies, got to test taste homemade wines, and ogled at items that were well above what they could easily afford. However, it was nice to imagine owning such items.

LaSalle turned out to be a great haggler himself. In no time Brody, who didn't have time to tell her partner no, found herself wearing a beautiful new necklace of faux pearls. LaSalle himself took the honor of clasping it around her neck.

"Looks perfect on you, Brody."

_That man can charm the habit right off of a nun!_

At one point, there was a local band of musicians playing good old fashioned jazz music. For a few minutes the duo just stood there among the mass of viewers. They listened, letting the tune wash over them, bopping their heads and tapping their feet to the melody. LaSalle cast a sideways look at his partner.

He was taken aback by just how pretty she was in a dress and having the sunlight in her hair. Without a second thought, he grabbed Brody's hand and pulled her through the crowd, leading her to the small gap between band and listeners.

"What are you doing, LaSalle?" Brody asked with a startled squeak, brown eyes wide and slightly frightened.

He placed a hand on her hip and with the other took a firm, yet gentle, hold of her hand, "Isn't it obvious, Brody? I'm going to dance with my partner."

"I can't dance!"

He pulled her flush to him, their chests touching, and told her to place a hand on his waist, "Just follow my lead, Brody. Trust me."

Blue eyes locked onto brown and she nodded instantaneously. Of course she trusted him. Brody trusted LaSalle more than anyone else on the whole planet. Releasing a deep breath, Brody lowered her guard down and allowed her partner to take control, letting him take the lead. Brody thought he was going to do an ordinary dance with her. Never could she have been so wrong. LaSalle led her into a simple waltz, one that Brody felt was of his own making. The steps were simple enough for her to follow. For a short while Brody had watched her feet but, once they began to move faster, she lifted her gaze and found LaSalle's full attention upon her. The way he looked at her made her feel like the only woman in the world.

But, once he got her loosened up, LaSalle gave her a wink and then took the dance up a notch. He spun her, making her skirt twirl like a ballet dancer's, and he dipped her. He even lifted her up and spun around. LaSalle, as in all aspects of his life, was confidant and sure of himself and he was an experienced dancer. Not once did he give her a misstep or cause her to stumble.

At the end of the song both of them were smiling like idiots. They breathing fast, hot breath fanning each other's' faces, hearts racing in excitement and joy, cheeks flared, and gazes ablaze. The musicians and viewers cheered offered them a round of applause and LaSalle, ever the gentleman, brought the back of Brody's hand to his lips and planted a kiss upon her knuckles.

The band began to play a faster song and he cocked an eyebrow at his partner, silently asking if she'd like to have another go. She shook her head, hand still in his and grinning widely.

"One's good enough for me." Brody said.

He pulled her back through the crowd, "Let's grab lunch then. I know the perfect place."

"Don't you always?" She asked playfully.

"One of the perks of being a southern boy."

Hand in hand, LaSalle led his partner to a small cozy shack-like building. There was a colorful, cheerful sign painted with neon letters that read: **UNCLE LOUIE'S & GRANDMA VOODOO'S JOINT**. There was a chalkboard that had the 'Today's Specials' written on it. Looking through the window, Brody could see that the inside was packed.

Luckily, for the pair, there were a few outside seats. There were two round wooden tables surrounded by comfortable looking barstools with large umbrellas to block out most of the blinding sun light. LaSalle pulled out a chair for his partner and gave her a leg up. He took the seat across from her.

They could smell the food wafting through the door. Their mouths began to water and their stomachs growled. After having been seated for several moments in a comfortable silence, a young blond waitress came out.

"Hiya, LaSalle!" She said cheerfully, "Who's your pretty lady friend here?"

LaSalle chuckled warmly, "Brody, this is Emma. Emma, this is my partner from work, Brody."

Brody flashed the girl a warm smile and Emma smiled back.

"Let me fetch some menus for you guys. What would you like to drink?"

LaSalle cocked a finger at Emma and she dipped her head. He whispered in her ear and the girl's eyes filled with amazement. She shot a look at Brody and almost didn't conceal her giggle.

"Coming right up."

Emma slipped back into the diner and made a beeline straight for the kitchen. Through the window, Brody watched the young girl chat with a large, rotund black man, who was dressed like a chef, with rosy cheeks and bright eyes. They appeared to have a short, feverish chat before the large man made an excited movement and came towards them.

"Chris!" The man cried. His accent was pure Cajun. "So good to see you again my boy! And who, may I ask, is this lovely lady?"

He gave Brody a dramatic bow, planting a soft kiss upon the back of her hand. Flattered, Brody's cheeks flamed a bright red and her voice left her. LaSalle gave her a grin, looking at her from under his eyelashes.

"Uncle Louie, this is Agent Brody, my partner from work. Brody, this is Louie, best Cajun cook in these parts."

"You flatter, Chris!" Louie boomed merrily, "Have you two had a chance to look over the menu yet?"

Brody's voice reappeared, "No. Young Miss Emma was supposed to retrieve us a copy."

"Ah, well no worries. I'll cook you two up something real special that can't be found on the menu. My treat. What do you say?"

"Sounds just perfect, Uncle Louie." LaSalle said.

Beaming, Louie sprinted back off towards his kitchen. For being a larger man, he was quite light on his feet. Emma snuck past him and came back to their table carrying a chilled bottle of bubbling wine in a bucket of ice and two fluted glasses. Wide eyed, Brody stared at LaSalle with questions in her gaze.

He merely smiled politely back at her, neither taking nor giving information. Their waitress poured them each a glass and set the bucket or ice and wine down on the table. She wished them to enjoy and disappeared again.

Brody took a sip and she closed her eyes, enjoying the sweet flavor against her tongue.

"Thank you, LaSalle." She said.

"Don't mention it." He said, resting his elbow on the table and leaning in closer to her.

"No, seriously, thank you, Chris." She repeated, leaning in as well. "For everything. Thank you for taking care of me and putting up with me yesterday and thank you for treating me to an amazing day…I've had the greatest of times today."

She had meant to just give him a friendly peck on the cheek to give her words a little more meaning. But LaSalle, not knowing what she was about to do, turned his head at the last moment. Once her lips touched his fireworks exploded.

LaSalle snaked his fingers into her hair and she cupped a hand to the back of his neck. It wasn't a simple, soft gentle kiss. Nor was it a sloppy, hurried wild kiss. It was a kiss of unchecked passion and filled with all the words they couldn't say and feelings they never dared to show. At the feel of his tongue against hers, Brody knew that she was lost.

LaSalle brushed his lips against hers for a moment longer, whispering words against her lips that only she was meant to hear. He never wanted the kiss to stop. But, all good things must come to an end. Reluctantly, he pulled away, dropping his hand so that he held onto hers, brushing his thumb across her knuckles.

"Don't mention it, Merri." He said gently, "It's been my pleasure."

The End


End file.
